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Friday, August 2, 2013

Yeast Bread Falling: Robyn Straley Edition

Whaaaaaaaaat?

You mean Robyn Straley ("Other-Robyn", around these parts) made me the subject of this month's Yeast Bread Rising version of the Proust Questionnaire? Where can I find this historic interview, you ask? Well, right here, of course. (And if you're curious about what the Yeast Bread Rising Questionnaire is, all shall be revealed in this informative article.) So follow that link right over there. When you get back, we'll talk further.

Doot doot dah dah doot doot dah.

Back? Okay.

By now you can see that there's only one appropriate retaliation for this kind of thing: I need a questionnaire of my own. One that combines my obsession with MRE's and low-class food with my patented brand of whimsical evil. And guess who was blackmailed graciously agreed to be my first subject?

If you guessed anyone apart from Other-Robyn, then you're pretty bad at guessing games, aren't you?

So, without further ado, I present my questions, and Other-Robyn's answers to...

When it comes to food, I am shameless. That said, my salt obsession embarrasses other people. And by other people, I mostly mean my husband. To whom I reply: “If you love it, salt it!” – Mark Bitterman

What culinary practices really get on your nerves and/or make you want to stab the chef?

Not working clean. Disorganization makes me feel stabby. Clean as you go and we will get along just fine.

It’s the early days of the Zombie Apocalypse. You’re holed up in a safe place, but your food has run out. What do you do?

Cry. Curl up deep in a cave somewhere and cry. As someone who is in love with Bear Grylls, I am fully aware that I do not have what it takes to “get out alive.”

Wait . . . does this cave have wi-fi? Because then I am going to try to Google my way out of this situation.

It is obvious that I will soon starve to death.

Plan B: I will email Bear and hope for rescue.

It’s the late days of the Zombie Apocalypse. You’re a zombie now. You manage to bring down one of those smarmy survivor types who think they’re so special just because they made it this long without becoming a zombie. What part of them do you eat first?

Skipping this question. We all know I’m going first. (See above.) I hope you all enjoy whatever part of me you decide to snack on, and remember: use everything but the squeal.

What would you eat if you ruled the world, and all its bounty was at your personal disposal?

Seafood. Any kind. (I sometimes find myself randomly biting at strange sea creatures in search of a new favorite.)

What would you make everyone else eat if you ruled the world, and all its people cowered before your might?

I really can’t handle this level of responsibility.

I would want enough for all, equitably distributed. I still have a hard time grokking this:

“48.8 million Americans—including 16.2 million children— live in households that lack the means to get enough nutritious food on a regular basis. As a result, they struggle with hunger at some time during the year.” – Share Our Strength

How many pushups would you have to do to become a vegetarian? (Or, if already a vegetarian, how many pushups did you do to become one?)

I have at times vaguely flirted with the idea of being a vegetarian, just as I have at times vaguely flirted with the idea of doing a pushup.

Sadly (or at least, sadly as it pertains to my biceps), it is more likely (statistically speaking) that Bear Grylls and I will become email buddies.

Guests are coming over, but your pantry is completely bare and you have only $1 to spend on ingredients. What do you make?

Fried egg sandwiches. Homemade bread runs me about 40 cents a loaf. We should have enough left over for half a dozen eggs from a local farmer.

This will be good, but it would be even better with a little butter, mustard and cheese. And beer. {Insert warm and fuzzy anecdote on the making of stone soup and learning the value of cooperation in the face of scarcity. Wait – this is the darkside version of the culinary questionnaire. Very well then . . . insert manipulative anecdote aimed at guilting Other-Robyn into bringing these items to my party.}

It’s July 1809 and you command the French army occupying Spain. The regular Spanish army is in front of you. Wellesley’s British expeditionary army is behind you. A guerrilla force of Spanish Partisans surrounds you on either side. What do you have for supper?

Paella. The only motivation I can imagine for me being involved in a military conflict on the Iberian Peninsula is Valencian paella.

I might be a little off here in terms of my understanding of the historical timelines involved, but they must have been playing around with concept by then. Otherwise I would have stayed at home, eating croissants.

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Robyn Straley writes about life, food, and salt (definitely salt) at her blog.